Little Secrets
by demondreaming
Summary: There are so many secrets in my head, tangled in my curls, and if he'd just run his fingers through it they'd all shake out, and he could help me piece them together. Rock. Oneshot.


**Disclaimer: Victorious is not owned by me in any way, shape, or form.**

**A/N: Takes place directly after/during the new Victorious episode, _A Film By Dale Squires_.**

I push myself up off the asphalt, gravel stinging the palms of my hands. I can feel the prickling of tears behind my eyes, and I screw my face up, fighting them off. I can still hear those cheerleaders laughing. You think I'd be used to getting humiliated by now, used to having bad luck. I glance over at Rex, where he's resting in the red tool cart. "Don't you say a word." I mutter, brushing my jeans off.

"Whoa, hey, what happened?"

I push my thick, black-rimmed glasses further up my nose, looking up to see Beck approaching, hands outspread, confusion on his face. "Where's the car?" Beck grins at me, with his shiny, white teeth, and it's so easy for him. It's so easy for him to be cool, to be... to be just a guy. "Dude, you're supposed to go _with_ the girls." He stops in front of me, thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his jeans.

"They stole it."

His thick, defined eyebrows dip down. "Who, the cheerleaders?"

I shrug angrily, turning away from him. "Some guys. I don't know."

His hand on my shoulder stops me, and I turn back, Beck's face concerned. "Well, we should call the cops then."

I shrug his hand off. "Don't bother."

"Hey man, we worked really hard on that car. Don't you wanna pick up girls?" He tries a grin again, and usually... seeing Beck happy cheers me up too, especially since he said 'we', and we both know I didn't do anything.

"It wouldn't work anyway." He thinks this whole car thing was about girls. It was never about that. Beck's been my friend for a long time... Andre has too, but... I've never really gotten why Beck hung out with me. He's so cool, and confident, and good-looking... he could be friends with anyone. And I'm just awkward, stupid, nerdy Robbie. No one wants to hang out with me. This whole car thing... it was about hanging out with Beck, about spending time with him. He makes me feel cool, he makes me... he makes me happy. He makes my heart beat faster, and my hands sweat, and everytime he looks at me, I feel like I shine a bit brighter. Like I'm less Robbie, and more of him. I can't help the things that come out of my mouth, like admiring the way his jeans fit, or... or how handsome he is. They just... they just stumble out of my mouth before I can stop them, like the butterflies in my stomach are flying up my throat and coming out as words, instead of vomit like they usually do when I'm nervous.

Beck's eyes are dark, compassionate... almost black, and it's so easy to just look at them, to meet his gaze. His eyes don't make me squirm like everyone else's do. It doesn't feel like he's picking out all my flaws, all the things I hate that stick out on me. It just feels like he's looking at me, looking at Robbie. Like he's looking inside. I lied... it does make me squirm a little, but... in a different way, in a good way. Like the way that coffee makes me vibrate. "Hey, I'll give you a lift home, okay?"

"Okay." I gather Rex up, putting him into my pack gently. He hasn't been quite the same since his accident. He's been... quieter, not talking as much. I don't know if that's a good thing or not. It happens more often when I'm with Beck. Rex doesn't say anything, he just sits there... watching, and it's like he's trying to tell me something. Which is weird, because if there's something he wants to say, he says it. Loudly, and in public.

I follow Beck to his car. Those jeans really do fit him well. But then, everything does. I couldn't stop watching him work on the car... fiddling with the... engine-thingy underneath the hood, and using the... metal-wrench-thingy to do stuff. He's such... such a guy. I shouldn't even know people like him, guys like him shouldn't even talk to me. Guys like him are supposed to bully guys like me. Everything he does is just so effortless. He moves so easily, runs a hand through his thick, black hair, smiles. I feel like a marionette when I walk... my fingers get tangled in my dark curls, and my smile usually feels more like a wince. It's just... it's so easy to hang out with him. He doesn't make me feel like a geek. He makes me feel like I belong, and it's not that I want to _be_ him... I know I never could be, but... I want to be like him. It's not even that, really. I just wanna be... with him. Around him.

I go around to the passenger side of his car, fumbling with the handle to the door and almost falling into the seat. And it feels too deep, and my legs are too long, too skinny, and the material of the chair scratches my skin, and it's like I always feel too much around him. Like... he makes me aware of everything. Like... he's my glasses... he makes everything clear, everything focussed. Hanging out with him... being friends with him... it's good for me. I know it is. I used to be... well, I guess I still am, really, but I used to be a lot more lonely, a lot more... pessimistic. I know... I know people don't like me... girls don't like me, but when I'm with Beck, it doesn't matter as much, I don't feel so... so alone. He makes me feel special, and not in the bad way that I'm used to, like when my pants split in that ice cream parlour. He makes me feel like I'm the first one in line at a new Galaxy Wars movie, like a mint condition comic, like a figurine with fully opposable joints. He makes me feel like maybe I'm not such a failure.

Beck's body twists in the driver's seat, his arm stretched in front of me, hand pressing against my headrest as he reverses, looking behind him. I let my eyes play over the skin. He's like something from a movie... which sounds stupid... he's an actor, of course he is, but his skin is so... smooth. So flawless. I can see his muscles tense under the coffee coloured skin, dark hairs running along his forearm. I look at my own, and all I see is how skinny they are, how pale. I want... I want to touch his arms, touch his hands, make sure he's flesh and blood, and not just an imaginary friend. That he is actually real, that's he's not... that he's not like Rex, not just my imagination trying to make me feel better. To make me feel less alone.

I'm quiet on the way to my house, Beck switching the radio on and keeping the volume low, some old rock song wailing at me through the speakers. Beck's... I guess he's what you'd call my best friend, but... it's different. It's weird. You're supposed to be able to relax when you're with your friends, it's supposed to be like being with yourself, but better. It's not like that with Beck. He's all laid back, and easy-going like he should be, but I'm... I've got buzzing in my veins, and it's like that time I ate shellfish, and my throat closed up. He makes feel me feel all hot and messy inside, he makes it hard to breathe, and he makes my head swim and skin sweat. He makes me feel like I'm choking sometimes, and it's not right. I take a deep breath, fingers tapping on my thigh, the smell of Beck's cologne filling my lungs, sort of peppery. And it's like there are so many secrets in my head, tangled in my curls, and if he'd just run his fingers through it they'd all shake out, and he could help me piece them together. I never wanted the car. I can't drive to save my life. I hyperventilate when trucks drive too close to me. And I've tried so hard to impress girls, to act like Beck around them, but I'm starting to realise I don't care about the girls. Not one of them look at me like Beck does, not one of them listen to me like Beck does. I'm starting to realise that maybe it's not the girls I'm trying to impress, maybe it's Beck.

"Okay, we're here." Beck's voice sounds over the rumbling of his idling engine, hands flexing on the leather steering wheel, and it startles me, eyes blinking a few times behind my glasses.

I force a smile, laughing nervously, hands squeezing my thighs lightly, and... being this close to Beck, in his car, where it smells of him, where everything in here is just... _him_, through and through. It feels comfortable, and uncomfortable, and thoughts are having trouble connecting themselves in my head.

"Hey man, don't worry about the car."

"Maybe we could get another one... and we could... you know, fix it up together." I smile nervously, breath short, and I'm hoping Beck will say yes, that I'll be able to live this week again, that I'll be able to stand around watching him, talking to him... hanging out with him. My fingers fumble with the catch to my seatbelt, fighting to get it undone, because it feels like it's pressing too tight against my chest, like it's bruising my skin and constricting my lungs.

A grin splits his pink lips, hand sliding behind my headrest again as he looks at me. "Sure thing. I know a guy." And his smile is real. He likes spending time with me. Even Rex doesn't like spending time with me.

My heart is pounding in my throat, tugging at the bonds that keep it in my chest, and it's whispering, it's thrumming to me, _tell your secret, tell him_, and I swallow hard to force it down, to put it back where it belongs, because it isn't right. But it's tearing free anyway, the sound of it's pounding filling my head, rattling free all the secrets.

"Robbie? You okay?" Beck's voice is soft, concerned, and it's enough to rip my heart free, to make me lean over and crush my lips to his, to just feel that he's real. His lips are soft, and thin, and he takes like peppermint and smells like his cologne, and my heart slinks back into my chest, satisfied. Beck's hand presses against my shoulder, warm and firm, and I pull back, and it feels like everything in me is trembling, like my bones are shaking and everything is crumbling. I just... I don't understand it, but I want to be with him, to be near him, and it's different than it is with girls. It goes deeper. I want him.

Beck licks his lips, letting my shoulder go, his voice quiet. "Robbie... I'm not gay. I have a girlfriend."

I nod, words stuttering out nervously. "I... I know, I'm not either... I just... I..." And I don't know what it is, what made me do that. I... I'm not gay... I mean, I don't think I am. I guess I could be, but it's just... it's Beck who gives me butterflies. Kissing him felt... it felt right, even though he's a guy, and I never... he's not a guy to me, he's Beck. I stare at my hands, curled in my lap, and I don't know how to explain it to him, when I can't even figure it out myself. I don't want... I don't want to push him away, to creep him out. I don't want him to act like everyone else does around me.

"It's okay. It's cool." Beck glances out the windshield before looking back at me, that easy grin on his face, his hand resting on my shoulder again, reassuring. "It'll be our little secret."

My shoulders relax, and I start to realise that maybe Beck's hair is full of secrets as well, and I wonder what ones would shake free if I ran my fingers through it, if I curled and twisted and tugged, what secrets would come free. Maybe he has more than I do. I nod at him, hand circling his wrist. "Our little secret."

**A/N: It's pretty much official, Rock is canon. Or maybe my subtext goggles are screwed on too tight. Either way, this is the result, and I hope y'all enjoy it. This is my first foray into the territory of man to man loving, and it's simply a dabble, simply a dipping of my feet, but I hope y'all like it anyway ^_^**

**Please review if you did, and have the inclination to do so. :P**


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